


trip of three steps

by valleyofmidnight



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Extremely Dubious Consent, Inspired by Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov, M/M, ciel being a brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyofmidnight/pseuds/valleyofmidnight
Summary: He likes this spot especially, right across Sebastian's desk. He kicks his feet (legs too short to reach the ground) and tilts his head. Pops his gum. Sebastian's eyebrow twitches.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	trip of three steps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lo_lolita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lo_lolita/gifts).



> gifted to lo-lolita cause they finished their coffeeshop sebaciel fic 4 my birthday :3 love youuuu !!!

Ciel likes sitting at the opposite desk chair while Sebastian works, swinging from side to side, scrolling through his phone, not reading anything. He likes hearing all the small sounds Sebastian makes. The hums, the whispers to himself, the tapping of his pencil on the desk when he was thinking of the next thing to write. He likes rolling his ankle, and tilting his head back, sighing to himself. Seeing the way Sebastian responds.

Authors are so mysterious, Ciel thinks, always hiding behind a page, never taking center stage-- Ciel was so curious when he heard one was taking up the extra guest room, thought something interesting could definitely come from that. And Sebastian is interesting to watch all on his own. Ciel could stare at him forever. 

He has this calm capriciousness to him, like he's always a step ahead of everyone else, like he's thinking of his next move at all times. He smiles and Ciel swears he can see the faint impressions of fangs. The faint glint of blood-red in his eye. But in that hidden violence is a shocking sort of beauty. Every feature lays on Sebastian's face as though it had been arranged by the most skilled of artists-- the type of absorbing beauty that could start and end wars. 

Or at least Ciel thinks so-- and he has stared at Sebastian plenty. He knows the calm slope from his nose to his cheek like the back of his hand, knows the small micro-expressions that twitch in his face, the jolt of a lip, the leap of an eyebrow. Ciel can name them all, lay them out and pick out the appropriate fraction of motion for every situation. 

But he likes this spot especially, right across Sebastian's desk. He kicks his feet (legs too short to reach the ground) and tilts his head. Pops his gum. Sebastian's eyebrow twitches. Ciel wonders for a moment how many pops it would take to drive Sebastian over the edge-- make him strike Ciel, or pick him up and take him to a different room. Five isn't enough. Nor six. Nor seven--

"Ciel." Oh, and his voice is wonderful. Like frozen amber, like those hot chocolate milkshakes.

Ciel smiles, boyish and forever innocent. "Yes?"

Sebastian raises his head, looks him straight on. It's not enough to make Ciel fold (in fact, it makes him pop his gum again). Eight is enough to break the camel's back. 

Sebastian rises from his chair (some plush, vaguely victorian something Ciel's mom thrifted) and places both of his hands on the dark desk. He breathes in, seemingly to collect himself, then walks around and grabs Ciel's face, under his chin. His thumb and index finger push on either side of Ciel's face, and it's such a sudden change from their usual ten feet between the both of them. Ciel's heart nearly stops. He chews his gum as unbothered as possible. 

"Spit it out." 

Ciel pouts. 

Sebastian clenches his teeth, then sticks a finger from his opposite hand into Ciel's mouth. Ciel, horrified, yanks his head back, twists it this way and that, thinks about biting him. Doesn't. Sebastian hooks his finger, catches the gum, and it launches across the room. 

Ciel pants, his face still in Sebastian's grip. There's a beat of silence between them, just breath and blood pounding between them-- And for a second Ciel is completely aware of how small he is, how fragile. Sebastian could do anything to him. 

Ciel's mom is out, they both know that. The house is empty. It would be hours before anyone would find Ciel's body-- if that were the route Sebastian took.  
Sebastian smiles, subtle, like he knows exactly what Ciel is thinking. He shakes his head lightly, loosens his grip. He takes Ciels face in both of his hands, gently, softly, smiling. Ciel pushes his chin up, an obvious suggestion. Sebastian seems content to hold the tension of the moment, have Ciel silently beg for another few moments. Ciel will be damned before he lets Sebastian have the satisfaction.

He takes Sebastian's collar in his fists and pushes forward, eyes closed, until his mouth is on Sebastian's, his feet on the floor, half standing. Ciel nearly panics, unsure what to do, how to move, sure that his awkwardness would ruin everything, but Sebastian cradles him, moves his hands from Ciel's face to his waist, picks him up easily. 

Ciel wraps his legs around Sebastian's waist, feels Sebastian's hands on the underside of his thighs. It's the kind of image that belongs in a magazine, Ciel thinks, perfect and pure. Easy. Ciel fits against Sebastian easily. They move out of the landing where Sebastian kept his office and into Ciel's room, walls crowded by movie posters and cut-outs from magazines, bed unmade, four-poster. His sheets are a deep navy and feel more welcoming than they ever have when Sebastian lays him on top of them. 

And he feels beautiful with Sebastian holding him, hands on his hips, eyes on his. He dips down and presses his mouth to Ciel's neck, and he swears this is all he wants, all he's ever wanted. Sebastian holds all of his wants and needs within himself. 

\--

The mattress digs into Ciel's stomach, his small hands pull on the sheets. Sebastian's leaning over him, still clothed, one hand on Ciel's hip and the other between his legs. He says he'll be gentle this time, but he makes no promises for the future. Ciel can hardly hear him, dizzy and vaguely nauseous. 

It's like he's broken out in a fever, like his entire body is crumpled and condensed into just his head and heart, but also outside of himself completely. Like he's a camera in the corner of the room. He can hardly recognize himself-- preteen arrogance folded into a whisper. Somehow, this isn't what he imagined at all.

He feels the pleasure, the weight in his stomach, his spit pooling against his cheek. And he supposes this is what everyone makes a big deal about. It feels good, it does, but it also feels like-- Ciel keeps cycling between completely numb, and completely terrified, both of them manifesting as complete paralysis. 

He hardly notices when Sebastian drops to his knees, nails digging into Ciel's thighs. But he feels his tongue, clear and hot. Ciel yelps, his eyes shutting tight. All of him jolts forward, coaxed back into something resembling relaxed by Sebastian's whispers and kisses to the small of his back. 

But his tongue is back before long, pressed flat against his hole. Ciel can't think about it. If he does, he'll wind up kicking Sebastian off of him, ruining absolutely everything. So he stays still, lets Sebastian do whatever he wants, lets his body slip somewhere unreal. His head spins, his voice calls out, but he moves his hips with Sebastian's hands, follows his lead. 

Pleasure turns through his insides, welcome but hard to embrace, and Ciel wishes more than anything to embrace it. There must be something wrong with him that he can't, something broken inside of him. He could never tell Sebastian. 

Sebastian seems awfully preoccupied, now back on his feet, his fingers replacing his tongue. He smooths his hand along Ciel's back, whispers something sweet. Ciel exists not as himself, but as a vessel for all the things Sebastian wants to say. He lets them rattle around in his lungs. 

It hurts, Sebastian's fingers, but at least the pain is something to hold onto, not as slippery as pleasure. And then it's more than fingers (and more complicated than pain). It's several feelings at the same time, and it's still Sebastian, so Ciel is willing to hold them all at once, to take them and whatever else Sebastian offers.   
He has a brief thought of his mom walking in on them. The door's open. She'd be horrified. Might kill one of them. Would definitely throw Sebastian out. Ciel would go with him. Even if he had to sneak out in the middle of the night, he would go with him, whenever he wanted him. 

The bed creaks. Ciel can feel Sebastian's breath against his neck, can feel the heat of his tongue, spit on his skin. He can feel everything at once. He feels nothing at all. But god, it fucking hurts, and Sebastian just keeps moving faster, and Ciel couldn't possibly have had any of this in mind. His thoughts hadn't gone past kissing (and Sebastian said he was gonna be gentle). 

He wanted to tell him to stop, but he was supposed to like this, and it was his fault he didn't. He didn't want Sebastian to know. He buried his face in the mattress, and Sebastian stayed unrelenting-- and it lasted forever. 

\--

Ciel never wants to move again. Sebastian's sitting on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair, telling him about the story he was writing. It was something somber and neat, an exploration of mundane humanity. Ciel pretends to understand the point of it. Sebastian keeps making him drink water. 

Ciel's flushed, and sore, and pretty sure he's fucked up beyond repair in some hard to quantify way. He's sure once Sebastian catches wind of it, he'll leave. But, in this moment, he kisses Ciel's temple and asks if Ciel wants him to stay. Ciel nods.

He slips under the covers, pulls Ciel against his chest. And Ciel thinks that maybe it doesn't matter if he's broken. Sebastian kisses his forehead, and it's worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> please do leave kudos and comments!! i really appreciate them <3


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